


SSHG Drabble Bin

by corvusdraconis, Dragon_and_the_Rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, SSHG - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24140941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusdraconis/pseuds/corvusdraconis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_the_Rose/pseuds/Dragon_and_the_Rose
Summary: SSHG Drabbles from Sprinty sprints. I will add to it as they happen.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 57
Kudos: 207





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaomiJameston](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaomiJameston/gifts).



**SSHG Drabble Bin**

(aka Sprinty Happens)

 **Beta Love:** Publishing Unsupervised! *cry*

* * *

The pull was undeniable, and in his heart, he felt both compelled and disgusted that love always seemed to make him its utter fool.

He saw her there standing in the sun’s dying light, her halo of nigh sentient curls whipping about her head as she looked over Black Lake.

To do what he wished was to risk death all over again.

To not do as he wished was to die all over again.

He was damned, yet again, to face the ultimate rejection.

“Marry me,” he whispered, bracing.

She turned, her brown eyes meeting his as she smiled.

“Yes!”

* * *

She placed a hand on his cheek, her fingers brushing against his pale skin as they wove into his curtain of hair that hung about his face like a protective wall.

He stiffened, freezing in place, his lips formed into a flat line.

Hermione closed her eyes, realising she had misread the tells.

He didn’t want her.

He didn’t care— like that.

She pulled away, her face turned down to hide her tears.

Suddenly, his hand clasped over hers, his eyes unfathomable.

“Don’t,” he said. “If you don’t mean it.” 

“I do.”

Severus’ mouth dipped onto hers. “So do I.”

* * *

Idiot.

How could he be such an idiot?

As if the first time hadn’t been epic enough to have the one female in all the world he cared about at the time cursing his very existence after he couldn’t keep his damned mouth shut!

Oh, no. He had to do it twice.

Twice!

And she had just set down her teacup, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and walked out of the teacher’s lounge.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to Purgatory.

He heard her footsteps before she set down a large glass jar.

Swear Jar, 1 Galleon per incident.

* * *

She saw him there, curled up in the settee, the book he had been reading trying to escape his lap by sneaking down the length of his robes.

He looked peaceful at that moment— vulnerable. 

With a smile, she rescued the book and placed it on the nearby table. She took the throw off the back of the settee and placed it over the sleeping wizard.

“Thank you for everything, Professor,” she whispered, tucking the throw around him with a featherlight touch.

She snuffed the candle and exited the Grimmauld Place library.

Snape’s lips formed into a tight, genuine smile.

* * *

Ronald Weasley hurried back to the Burrow, hastily casting an ironing charm to his clothes so nothing would be amiss.

He burst through the front door, making a show of setting down his lunchbox, briefcase, and Auror coat. 

“Hermione, I’m home!”

Silence greeted him.

Strange.

Normally, she hurried to meet him and ask him about his day.

Normally, there was food waiting for him on the table just like mum did for dad.

He saw the flicker of a candle in the next room and approached, smiling.

On the table lay a hundred photographs of himself with Lavender.

So busted.

* * *

It pained him to watch her doing everything she could to save her marriage knowing that it took more than one person to make a relationship.

When she divorced the red-headed menace, he couldn’t sign the documents fast enough—

The Prophet said the “boy” had come down with the most creative cock curse they had ever seen. Everyone knew when Weasley got it up thanks to the crowing in his pants.

Everyone.

The boy didn’t seem to realise what treasure he had lost.

No matter.

Severus Snape was not an idiot.

She curled up beside him, and he smiled.

Victory.

* * *

  
  



	2. Drabbles Take Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which random things happen

Squeak, squeak. 

Squeak. ****

**_SQUEAK!_ **

A river otter bounced by, a bundle of sweetgrass in her mouth as she tore off somewhere very fast.

Squeak! 

Squeak, squeak.

**_Squeak!_ **

She bounced by again, causing the cup of writing quills to bounce and the cup to slide ever so slowly to the edge—

Snape narrowed his eyes, dipping his quill into his favoured red marking ink, furiously grading the horrific essays that proved basic English needed to be a core curriculum as much as how-to-follow-directions.

Squeak.

Squeaky-squeak.

Snape snagged the river otter up in his arms and pulled her close. 

At last. 

Silence.

* * *

**Slam!**

_Squeak_!

**Slam!**

_Squeak!_

**SLAM!**

**_SQUEAAAK!_ **

“It’s no good, ‘Mione,” Ron said smugly, his mouth full of chicken wings. “You’re not getting out until you realise how unrealistic you’re being.”

**_SQUEAK!_ **

**_SQueakaSQUEAAAAK!_ **

Sharp clam-gnashing teeth pulled on the mesh of the cage, her claws frantically swiping at the sides.

Ron continued to stuff his face as he studied the parchment in front of him, smirking. He pointed his wand and made the gesture, pulling on his magic.

A pale hand slammed down on his wand hand, magic flaring brightly.

“I solemnly swear, touch her again and I will **_murder_ **you.”

* * *

Evil git was _not_ getting his ‘Mione.

No way.

No how.

 _He_ was young and good-looking.

The git was old and ugly!

 _He_ was a hero.

The git was a Death Eater!

He was a famous Auror working with Harry Potter!

The git was making girly stuff and headache tonic.

 _Psh_.

He trudged to the shoppe to sweep ‘Mione off her feet. 

He spritzed cologne all over himself.

A hundred Crups came running, humping his legs, tripping him up.

The bottle fell.

The label read: Doggone Attractive.

Snape leaned down to give his wife a tender kiss. “You’re _so_ Slytherin.”

* * *

Snape stared at his new talons with a scowl, flexing his fingers to watch them sheathe and unsheathe like a cat— well, if the cat had the talons of a velociraptor.

Great.

Just _great_.

As if he didn’t have enough problems in the looks department from day one, no. He had to overcome looking like—

Like—

An overgrown raven with dinosaur proclivities.

When he heard Granger’s terrified screams and saw she was bound to Weasley’s broom, he didn’t even think.

He _flew_.

He _slashed_.

The broom crashed along with a shrieking Weasley.

The witch clung to him tightly.

She stayed.

* * *

“You bespawling abydocomist!” the viper around Hermione’s neck hissed as her fangs clacked one centimetre from Harry’s nose. “Get over yourself!” 

Hermione’s eyes widened as Harry staggered back, grabbing his nose.

The angry viper curled around Hermione’s neck, her scales making a rattling sound as they slid against each other. 

Harry’s face was turning red while his carrot-headed mate was alarmingly pale. 

“If you think she’d marry some lease-mongering loiter-sack of a fustilarian with more brains in his cock than his cranium, you’d be dead wrong!”

“But Dumbledore—”

“Get bent!” the viper hissed.

Potter and Weasley ran for their lives.

* * *

He wrapped his arms around her as she slept, closing his eyes as he felt her breathe in and out. 

Her nigh-sentient curls seemed to slither about his arms, and her body was perfectly fitted to his, her softness and warmth nestling against him like a kitten in a sunbeam.

If the sunbeam had a proclivity for wearing relentless black wool in all kinds of weather—

Mmmph, she murmured, snuggling closer to him, pulling his face down for a kiss.

“You’re insatiable, Madam Snape.”

“Mmph,” she replied. “For _you_.”

It was his duty to please his mate. Why fight it?

* * *

**Dang you drabble bug. I'm blaming Morbidmuch.**   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Drama

Hermione sighed, looking out over Black Lake with a weariness that sank into her bones.

Her life of living the lie of being meant for Ronald was finally over.

She’d tried to hold on to something she remembered after her parents pushed her away—

But it was hopeless to do so.

Life went on.

Things sometimes ended.

She stared silently, watching the moonlight dance on the dark water.

A shadow moved, and the wall of black heralded the arrival of the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

He said nothing, but when she leaned into his warmth—

He did not pull away.

It was a start.

* * *

“Granger.”

Hermione winced at the address.

How long had it been? A week? A year? Ten?

How many regrets had she harboured for having not read between the lines on an offer made and subsequently stomped on? 

A life with someone who had valued who she was over a stupid, soulless career— 

A crusade to save the house-elves.

House-elves who hated her.

House-elves who made it their mission in life to destroy her in subtle ways—

Oh, they had their rights, but they never once used them. They thumbed their noses at her, hatefully.

And he—

He had moved on.

* * *

“Stay with me.” 

Her breath hitched in her throat. She was drowning with no water in sight.

He had said very little, simply tolerating her presence in his life as one would a wild thing visiting the garden.

He made her tea.

He shared the library.

He would put a headache potion next to her when she was grading as if he knew exactly how horrible it was.

Saying nothing.

Doing— everything.

But her heart was traitorous and aporetic.

She wanted to hear the words. The right words.

His eyes locked with hers, his voice silent.

Damn words, anyway.

“Severus—”

* * *

His eyes were fathomless— locked away as they had been for all the years she had been a student.

It seemed impossible that they had once held something tangible and personal— a look that had been for her alone.

_ Granger. _

Cold. Impersonal.

How stupid she had been to once demand to hear the words her idiot brain had demanded to hear—

How much she would give to see that softening of the lines of his face and the tender warmth.

“Are you finally ready to accept my offer, Ms Granger?” 

Her heart stuttered, strings in knots.

His hand extended.

“Yes!”

* * *

The end of the world was at hand.

It was true.

The apocalypse.

Armageddon.

Ragnarök.

Ron knew it was true because the greasy git was  _ smiling _ .

He stood in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, his mum arranging names on the table— matches for her sons and daughter.

Matches so the Ministry couldn’t beat them to it.

Yet that bloody git—

He was smiling.

As if he had figured things out.

Well, Ron had Hermione, that was all that mattered. He just had to propose.

Hermione floated in, and Snape’s head dipped into— 

A passionate kiss?

Well,  _ fuck _ .

* * *

_ Mew! _

Snape looked down at his feet.

Small paws touched his calf.

_ Purr. Purr. Bonk. _

_ Purr, bonk. _

He moved his leg.

_ PurrrrrrBONK. _

He used his boot to push the Scottish wildcat away.

It pounced his boot and sank its tiny teeth into the laces making vicious mauling sounds.

Snape closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He reached down, grabbing the playful kitten by the scruff.

_ Mew! _

“Must you be such an insufferable know-it-all?” 

_ Purrr. Purrrr! _

“Severus?” Minerva’s voice called.

The kitten dove beneath his hair with a startled mew, snuggling into his collar.

“Have you seen—”

“No.”

* * *

“Severus, did you know I was a harlot?” 

“Hn.”

“I’m only using you for your vaults.”

“Hn.”

“Apparently your cock is legendary.”

Snape dropped the  _ Daily Prophet _ onto his half-eaten breakfast. “Have they nothing better to gossip about?” 

“I wonder how they knew your precise length and girth,” Hermione frowned.

“So do I, considering  **_I_ ** don’t even know that,” he sniffed. He narrowed his eyes. “Do you?” 

Hermione flushed. “Not complaining, love, but I hardly ever use a ruler during coitus.” 

“Hn.” 

Hermione smiled. “Perhaps we should experiment.”

“For science?”

“For  _ revenge _ .”

The beetle in the jam jar spazzed out.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
